


Home at the Holidays

by gray_autumn_sky



Series: Set in Storybrooke, Canon Divergent [23]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 18:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15370500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky
Summary: Hood-Mills Holiday Fluff; Regina reflects on how her life has changed for the better since Robin; Robin, Regina and the kids spend a quiet Christmas Eve at home.Written for OQ Secret Santa 2015.





	Home at the Holidays

On the morning of Christmas Eve, her eyes flutter open. She smiles softly at the thick clusters of snow cascading down and collecting on the window sill—a white Christmas, she thinks—how perfect.

Until Henry, Regina had never been a fan of the holidays—because until Henry, the holidays only served to remind her that was still alone. But that first Christmas with Henry, it suddenly became her favorite. He was nearly a year-old then, old enough to be mesmerized by the lights and colors and carols. She’d bought the biggest tree that she could find at the local lot and whole house had smelled of pine—a comforting scent, she realized, that made her think of her childhood when she’d ride her horse deep into the woods and spend the day daydreaming of the day she’d be free of her mother and the confines of her position—and now, a scent she could link to her son’s childhood.

She’d bought colorful ornaments and glittering garland and lights that flashed and danced; she’d put evergreen garlands around the banister and on the mantle and tied them with red velvet bows. There were glowing candles in the windows and cinnamon scented pinecones at the hearth.

And Henry loved it all.

His eyes would light up and he’d clap his hands, giggling wildly as the colorful lights flashed, their reflection glimmering from the glass bulbs when she’d turn on the tree; and at night after his bottle, he’d cuddle into her chest and become mesmerized by the tree’s soft glow as his little eyes slowly fluttered shut.

As Henry grew older, their traditions grew more varied.

 When he was two she’d introduced him to the  _Polar Express_  and the  _Night before Christmas_ ; at three they began baking cookies for Santa; and when he was four, she bought a train to go around the tree skirt and she had Henry sat playing with it for hours. When he was six they spent Christmas Eve baking sugar and ginger bread cookies—sampling them fresh from the oven, as they decorated the rest with icing and sprinkles, making a complete mess of the kitchen—a mess she was glad to clean up. At eight, he’d convinced her to go caroling—a Storybrooke tradition which she never saw herself partaking in. She agreed reluctantly, holding his hand as she stood beside Mary Margaret Blanchard and sang  _Deck the Halls_ , too busy watching Henry’s rosy cheeks and happy smile to realize that she no longer cared for revenge because all that mattered to her was Henry and Henry’s happiness. No one else mattered.

It still surprises her sometimes, when she first opens her eyes in the morning and feels Robin beside her, that the life they have together is actually hers—real and tangible, not the elusive dream she’d dreamed of as a girl. It’s hard to think back to those days, when she’d curl up with a blanket in front her bedroom window and watch the snow fall, sending off silent wishes to the fairies for love and happiness, for a family that made her feel safe and secure, a family that didn’t use love as a weapon against each other. She’d spent years this way—silently hoping and dreaming, and fully believing that one day, her wish would be granted.

Until it wasn’t.

She thinks back to the first Yuletide celebration after her marriage to Leopold. There were feasts and balls, decorations adorning every corridor, an she was set in a corning, just like any other decoration—there for the enjoyment of the king should he want it, but otherwise unnoticed and unattended to. It was then that she’d stopped wishing; finally understanding the life she dreamed of wasn’t meant for her—there was no escaping. With teary eyes, she’d slipped away from the celebrations, retreating to her chambers. It didn’t surprise her that no one followed, and she cursed fate—a fate that had turned hope itself into something that caused her pain—and pushed her long-desired dreams for love and family back into the recesses of her memory, another piece of herself that would slowly die away.

And then one morning, she’d woken up and realized, that somehow when she wasn’t paying attention, slowly but surely and little by little, those wishes had been granted—first with Henry, then when the curse was broken, and then when Robin had come into her life, bringing with him two beautiful children that her heart could barely wait to love.

Feeling Robin shift beside her, she turns her head on the pillow and smiles at him as she moves herself closer and nuzzles her cheek against his shoulder. He shifts again, but doesn’t wake as his arm instinctively forms around her, pulling her tight against his chest as he holds her in his sleep. She sighs contently and closes her eyes, contemplating how easy it would be to just drift back to sleep, but no sooner than she considers it, Hannah’s cries pierce through the silence.

She hears Robin groan as his leg slides out from the blankets, his foot thudding against the floor, in a half-hearted attempt at getting out of the bed.

“I’ve got her—you sleep,” she whispers softly, as she drops an airy kiss against his cheek and pulls herself out of his embrace.

“Mmm, I love it when you say things like that to me,” he murmurs groggily as he burrows back into the pillow.

She shuffles out of the warmth of the bed and she grabs onto her robe, putting it on as she pads down the hallway to the nursery, the baby’s cries growing louder as she goes.

When she steps into the nursery, she can see the red-faced infant with tear stained cheeks, her little legs kicking back and forth as she wails, her tiny fingers grasping and tugging at her left ear. For the last two days, she’s been fussy—they’d speculated that perhaps she was beginning to teethe, and at four-months old, it would be early but possible and she displayed all the symptoms. But this morning, she’s far more than fussy.

“Oh, baby,” she murmurs as she cuddles her against her chest, her heart breaking a little as the girl’s cries continue. “You’re not feeling well, are you?”  She kisses her red wisps of hair, cradling her in her arms as she hums softly. Settling back in the glider, she begins to rock, holding Hannah tightly against her chest and cupping her palm against the little girl’s ear. She closes her eyes and continues rocking, feeling the little girl’s heart begin to beat in rhythm with hers, her breath steadying; and, after a few minutes, her cries quiet to muffled whimpers.

Hearing the nursery door open, Regina opens an eye and grins as Roland’s head pops into the room; his brow is furrowed in a mixture of annoyance and concern. “Hannah’s awfully grumpy this morning,” Roland says, his lips forming into a frown.

“Yeah,” Regina agrees with a nod, as she continues rubbing soothing circles on the baby’s back. “I think she’s sick.”

“Sick for Christmas?!” Roland asks, coming into the nursery with wide eyes. “Oh, that’s…terrible.” He comes closer and stands at the side of the glider, peeking around Regina’s arms to look at his red-faced baby sister. “Can’t you magic it away?”

 “I wish I could,” Regina tells him gently, shaking her head.

“Me too,” he replies with a sigh full of empathy. “Being sick for Christmas would be the worst.”

Reaching out, Regina twists her fingers through his messy curls, a small smile forming on her lips as she watches Roland gently reach out and pet the top of Hannah’s head, smoothing wild red waves in an attempt to comfort her. “Hey, have you looked outside?” Roland’s brown eyes slowly meet hers and he shakes his head, and a grin twitches over her lips. “Well, then you should.”

She smiles as Roland runs to the window, gasping as he takes in the wintery wonderland that’s formed in the yard overnight. “It’s so pretty,” he murmurs in a barely audible voice that once more causes her smile to deepen.

“Why don’t you go wake up Henry,” Regina begins in a soft voice as Roland turns back to her, “I’m sure he’d love to teach you how to make snow angels. And while you two are playing outside, I’ll get your sister settled and make some breakfast.”

“What’s a snow angel?” He asks with wide eyes.

Shrugging her shoulders, she feigns a lack of knowledge and smirks, “I guess you’re going to have to ask Henry.”

She can’t help but laugh as Roland tears off down the hallway, bellowing Henry’s name and tosses open the bedroom door with loud declarations about snow and snow angels, and how it’s Christmas Eve and he just has to get up. She laughs softly as hears Henry grumble a bit, as she cuddles Hannah closer and gets to her feet.

Heading down the stairs, she waves her hand and a moment later, the living room is aglow—the tree lit and a warm fire in the fireplace. Grabbing a thick knit blanket from the couch, she lays it out and settles Hannah on her back. Hannah continues to cry—her face growing redder at the loss of contact, and Regina offers her sing-song apologies as she waves her hand once more, producing a bowl of warmed oil and a little syringe.

“This will help, baby,” she murmurs, as she gently turns Hannah’s head, injecting some of the oil. “I promise.”

Lifting her back to her chest, she presses Hannah’s ear against her, and pulls the blanket up around them. Cuddling her close, she again waves her hand, smiling as the little girl’s eyes widen as an ornament floats up hover in front of her. Regina kisses the top of her head, unable to stop her smile as she watches the little girl’s eyes fill with awe as the figures inside the ornament come to life, skating and twirling across a glossy pond as snow dances around them—slow, methodical, rhythmic motions. Regina watches as Hannah becomes entranced by the scene in front of her, her sore ear forgotten, and then slowly but surely, the little girl’s eyelids begin to droop.

___

Regina’s eyes slowly open as she feels Robin sink down beside her on the floor, his arm stretching around her shoulders; in the distance, she can hear the boys laughing and playing outside in the snow, and suddenly she feels flooded with warmth and contentment.

“You should have told me she was actually sick,” he murmurs, as he drops a kiss against her hair. “I would have helped.”

“I’ve got it under control, besides you were up with her most of the night. Me taking a turn is only fair,” she replies easily as she peers down at the baby sleeping against her chest, her little fists clutching to her pajamas and her cheek pressed as closely as possible to Regina’s chest. “And…she’s awfully cuddly when she’s sick.”

“With you,” Robin remarks with a soft yet sardonic laugh, “Last night she was inconsolable for me. No matter how I tried to comfort her, the poor thing only got louder until she cried herself to sleep.”

“Maybe I just have the magic touch.”

“I would definitely say that you do,” he tells her with a soft smile, reaching out and touching his fingers to the baby’s rosy cheeks and his eyes looking up deliberately at Regina. “She’s becoming quite a mama’s girl, I’d say.”

The words come so easily–naturally, even— and Regina smiles at the sentiment, her heart fluttering a little as she peers down at the little girl as she lets her fingers twirl around a forming red curl. It’s the first time Robin called her the girl’s mother. For months, they’ve danced around assigning titles and now, she realizes that it’s a moot point. She’s grateful for the space he’s given her to figure out her feelings and decide for herself the role she’ll play in his daughter’s life, and she wonders if she knew all along that they’d end up this way.

But she doesn’t bring light to the words or their significance or the way they pull at her heartstrings. Instead she looks up at him, her fingers still swirling around Hannah’s wispy locks and she smiles, “Does that mean I get to spend the day cuddling with her? Because I could be okay with that.”

He nods, leaning in and kissing her cheek, “I’ve already called Mary-Margaret and David to let them know we won’t be attending brunch. So, cuddle as long as you’d like.” He kisses her cheek. “I’m going to go attempt to wrangle the boys inside and try to feed them.”

“Good luck,” Regina calls after him, peering down once more at the sleeping baby, getting lost her soft skin and rosy cheeks.

Without question, she’s come to love her extended family—more than she ever thought that she could. And she’d been touched when Mary-Margaret bounded into her office one afternoon looking for help in planning a brunch menu—an invitation had never been offered, it had just been assumed that Regina would be there, her family in tow. She’d smiled at the gesture and took a breath as she pushed aside her budgeting report to talk about breakfast casseroles and mimosas.

She hadn’t had the heart to tell Mary-Margaret that she didn’t really want to attend, that this was her first Christmas with Robin and the kids, and she wanted the five of them to have the time together, as a family. But when she got home that evening, Robin and Henry had no qualms about any of it, so it was decided—they’d be spending Christmas Eve with the Charmings. She feels a pang of guilt as she looks up at the glimmering tree, realizing she’s gotten her way because of a sick baby; but the thought of a cozy Christmas Eve with her family—just the five of them—is one that warms her heart and makes it easy to push aside the guilt.

And before she has too long to ponder it, she feels Hannah beginning to stir against her.

“Hey you,” she coos, looking down at the baby, watching as her blue eyes flutter groggily. She cuddles her closer and rubs her back in an attempt to keep her quiet and calm. “Good morning, my love.”

She holds her breath as Hannah’s eyes look around; her little nose and mouth scrunches, but no cries come. “Are you feeling better?” The baby’s blue eyes look back at her, listening to the soft sound of her voice, as she continues to rub her back. “I think you are.”

Getting up, she walks over to the window, shaking her head and laughing at Robin’s obviously failed attempt to wrangle the boys into the house for breakfast; instead, he’s lifting a laughing Roland from the ground, using him as a shield in their snowball fight, as Henry launches a series of snowballs toward him from behind a snow fort. Turning Hannah to face the window, and kisses the top of her head. “What do you think, Hannah?” She whispers, rhetorically as Hannah’s fingers find her mouth, “Do you want to help me with a little Christmas surprise for daddy and the boys?” She smiles and kisses the girl’s chubby cheek, knowing that the boys will be distracted for quite some time.

___

With a second round of warmed oil in her ear, Hannah is in her bouncer, chewing contently on the ear of her favorite stuffed rabbit. Regina’s at the stove, a growing pile of blueberry pancakes on a plate beside her as the smell of gingerbread floats through the air.

She can hear Robin instructing the boys to leave their boots on the back porch and to be careful to shake the snow from their coats and hats and scarves before coming inside. And then, the boys are bounding into the kitchen with Robin at their heels—and she can’t help but smile at them.

“Blueberry pancakes are my favorite,” Roland exclaims, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as his eyes grow wide as Regina sets the plate in center of the table.

“That’s just because they turn your mouth purple,” Henry teases.

“But that’s so cool,” Roland says defensively, as Henry drops a pancake to his plate. “Can I have two?” Henry rolls his eyes and grins before dropping another pancake to the plate, and once more, Regina smiles at the light-hearted their light hearted banter.

She can easily remember the days when it was just her and Henry—days she treasured and would never trade—but days that were often so quiet. She did her best, and they both know it, but their life together was that of a single parent and an only child. Henry was a child with a vivid imagination, who could easily keep himself busy as he played in her office after school, turning her couch into a castle and her lamp into a dragon he’d slay with an imaginary sword; but she always felt a twinge of guilt whenever his big brown eyes would turn to her and ask her to play with him, and she’d have to tell him that she needed to make an agenda for a Town Hall Meeting or prepare notes for the next school board meeting or whatever task was handed to the Mayor’s Office. He always understood, but his disappointment was hard to mask—he’d inherited her lack of a filter when it came to his facial expressions, always wearing his heart on his sleeve.

At the holidays, he always requested to watch  _Miracle on 34 th Street_, and, and though he’d never admit it to her, she suspected it was because he identified with the little girl in the movie—the girl who only wanted a family for Christmas. And as he grew older, he became more social, often stopping at Granny’s diner for an after-school snack before heading to her office to work on homework before dinner. He was a social kid, she knew, and he easily befriended the adults in town as he sat at the counter at Granny’s, eating French fries and sipping Coke. Though she held a certain disdain for the majority of Storybrooke’s residents, she tried her best not to let him notice, never keeping Henry from them—after all, she could scarcely deny him anything, and she was glad to pretend that it didn’t tug at her heartstrings, knowing he was trying to fill a void that she herself couldn’t fill.

And then Robin and Roland had come into their lives, and Henry easily, and seamlessly fell into the role of Big Brother, taking the younger boy under his wing, explaining the way things worked in this world, gently teasing him and being playfully competitive, and always,  _always_  protective of him.

It’s Robin’s touch that brings her back into the present moment, when he presses his hand against the small of her back and sets a plated pancake before her, topped with a dollop of whipped cream in the shape of a heart. She looks from the pancake and to him, with tears in her eyes—tears he’s quick to wipe away.

“None of that,” he murmurs, dropping a soft kiss on her lips. “There’s no crying on Christmas.”

Regina grins, accepting the fork that he holds out of her. “You know that I’m not much of one for rules,” she counters, “Besides, it’s Christmas Eve, not Christmas. I’ll cry if I want to.” Leaning in, she returns the kiss. “I just…I never thought…”

“I know,” he tells her, as his arm slides around her waist. “I never did either.”

___

The five of them spend the late morning and early afternoon in the kitchen, decorating Christmas-shaped sugar cookies with colorful icing and sprinkles and little candies, and constructing a gingerbread house that Robin becomes far too serious about. By the end of it their fingers are sticky and dyed and a plate of the best cookies are set aside for Santa. Their stomachs hurt from laughing—though Regina suspects it may have more to do with the number of cookies they’ve all eaten. By mid-afternoon, they’re sprawled across the living room, the boys back in pajamas with pillows and blankets and a bowl of fresh-popped popcorn between them, while Robin and Regina are cuddled up under a thick blanket on the couch with Hannah nestled against Robin’s chest, as Christmas movies play.

At Henry’s request pizza is ordered for dinner—and cinnamon bread sticks are ordered along with it at Roland’s. They eat in the living room on paper plates. By the time credits roll on the third film, Roland’s eyes are drooping, and Henry glances back at her and Robin, nodding toward Roland, and Robin smiles as he transfers a sleeping Hannah into Regina’s arms. She grins contently as the baby nuzzles into her.

“But I’m not tired,” Roland whines groggily, as Robin kneeling down beside Roland as he scoops him up from the make-shift bed on the floor.

“Roland,” Robin begins with a laugh, as Roland tries to turn out of his arms and fails. “You’re half asleep.”

“Tonight you want to go bed early,” Henry says, as Roland looks at him with hooded eyes. “The sooner we go to sleep, the sooner Santa comes with presents.” He pauses, “And if you’re awake, he just won’t come.” Henry grins, “Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”

Roland flops his head back and looks at Robin, “But we didn’t even put the cookies out.”

“I’ll put them out,” Regina assures him.

“With milk? I think he likes milk.”

“With a tall glass of milk,” Regina confirms as Robin carries him toward the stairs.

“What about food for the reindeer?”

With a small laugh, she sighs. “We have some leftover celery and carrots in the refrigerator, will that work?”

“Yeah,” Roland calls, his voice growing softer as he Robin reaches the stairs. “Broccoli, too. I think reindeer like broccoli, and I don’t.”

“Okay. Broccoli, too,” she replies, shaking her and smiling as she looks over at Henry, who’s settled beside her on the couch. Her smile deepens as she watches him play with Hannah’s foot, his fingers tracing one-by-one over her socked toes. “Thanks for staying today,” she says gently, waiting for his eyes to meet hers. “I know you were looking forward to brunch—and you could have gone…”

“I wanted to stay,” Henry says easily. “It was really fun just…hanging out, being a family. And I can see everyone else tomorrow.” He grins at her, “Besides, Christmas is kind of our thing.”

“Things are different this year,” she tells him, suddenly very conscious of Hannah’s cheek pressed against her shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, you know that?”

“Mom…” Henry sighs, his cheeks flushing as he looks away.

“I’m serious—so much has changed and you’ve handled it all so well. You’re a great big brother, and Roland and Hannah are lucky to have you.”

“They’re fun,” he tells her, looking back at her with a soft smile. “And I like having them around.” Leaning in, he kisses her cheek. “I’m going to go read a little bit before bed. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Henry,” she murmurs back as he goes.

___

When she returns to the living room after putting the baby down for the night, Robin is there waiting for her. He’s smiling sweetly, his blue eyes glimmering and she can’t help but laugh a bit—he’s looking at her like her hair isn’t a mess, like she’s not wearing the same, unshapely pajamas she wore the night before, like she doesn’t have fingers that are dyed red and green and blue, like she’s the only thing in the room worth admiring. He stands as she comes toward him, extending to her a glass mug of steaming spiced apple cider, which she accepts with a smile, as she pecks his lips and makes a quip about finally having mastered the microwave.

He takes her hand and leads her back to the couch where they once again settle themselves. This time, her back his pressed against his chest and his arm is draped loosely at her waist, his fingers rubbing at the hem of her pajamas as his lips, every now and then, graze against her neck and shoulder as he trails light kisses against her skin. She smiles at his touch and her own fingers swirl back and forth over the soft fabric that covers his knee.  She closes her eyes and sips the cider, letting the warmth fill her as she slowly melts into him, thinking that she’d like nothing more than to stay in this moment forever.

“I’m glad we stayed in today,” he murmurs into her ear.

“I am, too,” she confesses. “Today was…perfect.”

“Is it terrible that I just didn’t want to share you?”

“No,” she tells him with a soft giggle. “I didn’t want to share you either.”

He drops a kiss against her jaw, “We still have to put out the presents.” He chuckles softly, “And I’m afraid if we stay like this, I may never want to get up and Roland will come downstairs tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn to find nothing waiting under the tree.”

A smirk forms on Regina’s lips, as she takes a quick sip of the cider and waves her hand. Robin laughs out as a cloud of purple smoke surrounds the tree, and Regina looks back at him coyly as the smoke fades, revealing beautifully wrapped presents that have been tucked in the backs of closets for the past several weeks. “I suppose this solves that problem, then?”

“I suppose it does,” he replies, leaning in and pressing his lips to her temple, his arms wrapping tighter around her as he gazes toward the tree. She follows his gaze, smiling contently as they watch the twinkling white lights dance against the deep metallic tones on the wrapping paper. “You didn’t even wrap your own gifts, did you?” He asks, after awhile.

Catching her lip between her teeth, “Not a single one.”

“That’s so unfair,” he tells her with a soft, teasing sigh, kissing her once more. “My gifts look like the reindeer tried to wrap them with their hooves, and yours look…like they were wrapped by Santa Claus himself.”

She nestles back against him and closes her eyes, thinking back to a time not long ago when those around her were unsettled by her magic. It was a sentiment she understood as there had once been a time her magic had unsettled her—a trait she’d never seen used for good, never saw it as innocent, and something that she tried desperately to suppress as she clung to the goodness within herself. It never occurred to her that the two things weren’t mutually exclusive, that her magic could elicit smiles—that it could heal, that it could be good—not until Robin with his steadfast belief that she could be the person she wanted to be.

“I think we should exchange one gift tonight,” he says, his voice cutting through the silence of the moment. She turns to look at him, and he’s grinning broadly, “Just one?”

“Okay,” she agrees, sitting up and letting her eyes roam over the gifts until they settle upon  _the_  gift. “That sounds…fair.”

She watches as Robin gets up, milling through the gifts before selecting one just a little smaller than a shoe box. His eyes twinkle with excitement as he sets it in her lap and she presses her lips together to stifle a giggle as her fingers rub against the uneven, wrinkled gift wrap. She looks up to find him watching her intently, shifting back to the couch as he sits beside her and her fingers slip beneath the taped edge of the package. She tears it away quickly and opens the box to find a much smaller box nestled in a mound of shredded paper, a little gold bow atop it.

“Ohh…” she breathes, as tears flood her eyes. She swallows hard and looks up at him. “Is this…what…it looks like?”

Robin shrugs his shoulders and smiles somewhat nervously, “You’ll just have to open it and find out.”

She holds her breath as she lifts the box, her fingers slowly prying it open, and she hears a small gasp escape herself as she lifts a gold ring from the box, examining intricate features, “Oh, Robin…”

“I know it’s not…much…”

“It’s  _gorgeous_ ,” she says, her eyes darting up to meet his, her voice full of sincerity. “Where did you…find something like this?”

Again, he offers her a sheepish grin, “Before Little John joined the Merry Men, he was an apprentice to a metal smith.” He shrugs his shoulders, “So, I asked him to melt down one of my arrows and create something for me….for you.” 

She breathes out as she studies the ring—two tiny golden arrows, tangled and entwined together, their points meeting at the center; and then slowly, her eyes cast upward. “Gold arrows,” she says, “Was this from…one of the arrows I gave you?”

With a soft smile he nods. “I’ve had it with me for…so long now.”

She looks up at him, surprised by his words. “You…have?”

He nods, “I had it that day in the park, when I told you that I couldn’t think of a better example to set for my son than to follow my heart to you.” He pauses, “But it turns out, that wasn’t our moment—and since then, I’ve just been waiting, waiting for the perfect one, the perfect moment.”

Once more her breath catches, as she thinks back to that day. The way her heart had swelled as she smiled in disbelief, not quite believing his words, not believing that he could ever choose her—yet he did, and his eyes were so soft and so sincere that she’d slowly started to believe it, to believe in them and in their happy ending.

She swallows hard as he takes her hand in his, shifting down to the floor in front of her, down onto one knee.

“And, I think this is that moment,” he tells her.

She can’t keep her tears at bay any longer, and she doesn’t try to stop them as they trail down her cheeks, unabashed.

“I love you so much, Regina—and I love the life we’ve built together with our children,” he pauses as his voice catches at the back of his throat. “I never thought that I could be this happy, this fulfilled—and I’d made my peace with that, and I thought I had everything I needed.” He smiles, “Until you stumbled into my life with…” he chuckles softly and squeezes her hand, “…with that sharp tongue and battered, resilient heart of yours, and you taught me how to feel again. For so long, my heart was closed off to everyone except my son, and then there you were, making me feel things that I never thought I’d feel again—so alive, so impassioned, so in love. Ours hasn’t been an easy path, but what we have together has been worth the struggle, it’s worth hanging on to.”

“What I’m trying to say,” he continues, as he reaches out and takes the ring, holding it up to her, “Will you continue on this incredible journey with me, Regina? Will you marry me?”

With trembling hands she reaches out and pulls his face to hers, kissing him deeply and pouring all the emotion she feels but doesn’t have the words to properly articulate into the kiss. Breathlessly, she pulls back, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she rests her forehead against his. “Yes,” she murmurs, “ _Of course_ , I’ll marry  _you_.”

A smile explodes over his lips as he takes her hand and gently slides the ring onto her finger. “I love you,–oh, god, do I love you,” he murmurs, leaning in and placing a soft, tender kiss on her lips as he pulls himself up between her knees, and her hands settle around his back.

“I love you, too,” she responds breathlessly, ducking away and dropping a soft kiss on his cheek. She giggles quietly, as she slips away from him and goes to the tree and selects a crisply wrapped present from the pile. “And I have something for you, too.” Standing, he comes toward her, taking the package that she’s offering to him, “It’s a little…anti-climactic.”

She watches as he tears away the paper, pressing her lips together to stifle her laugh, as his eyes trace over the document that lies in a bed of red and green tissue paper. And she watches as his eyes slowly come to meet hers. “This is a marriage license,” he says, a smile stretching across his lips. “You were going to propose.”

 “I was, but you beat me to it,” she tells him with a sheepish nod. “I had a speech planned and everything.”

“I’d love to hear it,” he tells her, coming toward her and taking her hand.

“Well, you covered most of it,” she replies, her smile brightening as their fingers entwine. “Except for one, little thing.”

“Oh?”

Looking down at their fingers, she smiles, taking a breath as her eyes slowly meet his. “I never thought that I’d have this—I’ve told you that.” He nods. “And until recently, I…I didn’t know if I wanted to marry again because my experience with marriage was…not something I’d ever want to revisit.” She smiles as she feels his thumb rubbing against the back of her hand—the soft, subtle show of support that she’s become used to, that tells her it’s okay to be vulnerable and to open herself up, that he’s here and his love his constant. “And then I realized, it might not be official, but we’re already there and it’s… _wonderful_.”

Stepping closer, he brushes his fingers over her tear stained cheek, smiling tenderly as he leans in, their eyes still focused on each other, as he brushes his lips over hers. “It  _is_  wonderful,” he tells her, as his lips linger. She smiles as she leans into the kiss, letting her lips drag over his, her tongue swirling around his. She feels his fingers slip through her hair, and his palm press against the small of her back and she sends a silent thank you to the fairies, the universe, to fate, to whomever or whatever for bringing him to her, for finally granting her wishes for love and happiness and acceptance, and for the warmth of  _home_.


End file.
